


Gooey Cheese

by Yolo_SwaGinz



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Dates, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Past Zarkon/Honerva, Pizza Date, She dumped him loll, Zarkon POV, all is well and there is no rift, alternate universe - nobody is evil, and time might be changed so Zarky is still p young, so is everyone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27624884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yolo_SwaGinz/pseuds/Yolo_SwaGinz
Summary: A piece for galraweek2020 day 3 "non evil invasion of Earth"Zarkon is pushed to try a new Terran "app" by Alfor and Blaytz.... he doesn't regret it when he meets someone worthwhile during his trip to Earth.
Relationships: Keith/Zarkon (Voltron)
Kudos: 27





	Gooey Cheese

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note since I couldn't fit it into the story:
> 
> the Coalition agreed to temporarily absorb Earth into the Galra Empire for protection from threats such as pirates and slave traders until they get their bearings about aliens. Earth doesn't really like that, but Altea doesn't take colonies on inhabited planets, only research bases, and the others have little military power to spare. Zarkon is kinda sick of their shit cause well... he doesn't have to protect them but he is willing to give them unmatched military prowess for free and they refuse. Plus they are super rude to him compared to Alfor&Melenor.

He does not think Alfor really understood the purpose of this 'app', the profiles are mostly humans other than a few alteans and some others from the Dalterian belt. He does not understand it, and he is unsure of the overall purpose. He does know that humans are very social, and do a lot of strange things to make companionship. Galra simply talk to the other, spar, and then they are fine. But Alfor has voiced his concern for him in this matter, stating that he is 'too lonely' and 'being moody again'. Zarkon disagrees, performing his work perfectly fine. So what the previous holder of his affections had turned him away for a work opportunity? It doesn't phase him (it definitely does, Blaytz likes to remind him every chance he gets about their called off engagement).

But he does agree he has too many 'work' relationships, as Alfor has observed. 

“You can't just be friends with the four of us forever.” He said, “just try making some more friends! It shouldn't be that hard with humans, they are easier than Galra or Alteans or any other people we know of. I am sure there is another group you could find.” Alfor reassures, and hands him a modified human device with the app.

“Blaytz was kind enough to make you a profile!” Alfor beams with his usual toothy smile.

Zarkon grumbles, not knowing what in the quiznack Blaytz would have put down for him. He checks it to make sure he did not put any slander or inaccuracies about him, the Emperor of an inter-universal empire and the leader of the most powerful military power in said universe. To his dismay, anger and irritation, though expected, Blaytz had put some _interesting_ things out for the public to see. He instantly tries to edit his page, deleting more sensitive pictures of him shirtless, showering and other such inappropriate activities. 

“Stars, why am I not surprised. when had Blaytz taken those?." He asks himself, brows lowering in simmering anger.

Once he deletes the pictures, and editing the condescending description of 'tall, dark, very broody and moody' to 'my friends suggested I come in contact with new people for enjoyment.' he feels better about his account, but hopes his description translates well.

A few days pass and he does not check the application. He almost forgets about it until Blaytz mentions it over a video call in such an uncouth way, “Find a _special someone_ with those pictures I put?” He asks, and Zarkon can feel himself get irritated. 

“That is not the purpose of the application, as per Alfor's explanation.” He growls, lips set in a hard line.

Blaytz giggles, obviously giddy about something, "Whatever you say, Zarkon."

He checks the app after the call ends, refusing to discuss it anymore after. He has several messages, seven of them total. He opens them and responds respectively to each one. 

One of them a less than tasteful picture of human genitalia. He responds 'quite small.' and blocks the person. He has not gotten far when he checks the profile of one of the last people in the list. It is a dark haired man, one with his dog, and one tagged with a description of 'My mother and I.' He is surprised to see she is a galran woman, possibly of mixed descent. He reads the man's profile description, which is remarkably reminiscent of his own, "Friends made me make this, so sorry if I am not too interested."

He doesn't look at the other messages, feeling a bit interested. The man looks very serious, and has a silvery necklace with two tags on them. His location says he lives in Arizona. If Zarkon remembers correctly that is where the Garrison holds their space exploration base, the one that foreign dignitaries such as himself go to first to be screened and welcomed. He leaves a message to the half human, stating, 'I have interest in meeting at a human establishment the next time I must visit Earth. We have similar situations, it seems, and I think our mutual friends would _appreciate_ the effort."

He hits send, and then he closes the app, not expecting an answer.

It is several days, maybe even a week before he remembers to check the app. He opens it at his desk when he is done with the day's paperwork, and is surprised to see a message back from the man. "Sure, what about pizza? I'm told it's good for most people.”

Zarkon agrees, and he is sent a map, "It's close to the Galaxy Garrison, just text me when you want to meet, I live kinda close." He texts, and Zarkon replies, "That is most acceptable. I am due to arrive the third of your fifth month.”

He only gets a thumbs up back, what he thinks is either a gesture of understanding or an insult, so he copies the symbol and sends it back, just to be sure.

He turns off the device, getting back to work.

* * *

  
  


Zarkon nearly forgets about the man, Keith, if he remembers right from the profile. He checks again, just to be sure, and steps off his transport. Keith has beautiful eyes, and he shakes away the thought. They are meeting as _friends_ , and he shalt not think inappropriate thoughts and violate the other's trust. The garrison admirals and such greet him and his entourage, who is just Sendak and some other commanders. They are just here to oversee the negotiations and to take some shore leave. Earth is apparently growing in popularity for such things, a pleasure and vacation planet if you will. He has little interest in that, and he is sure his commanders have little interest as well.

But after they are shown to their rooms, he sends a text to the man named Keith. 

"I have arrived on your planet, and am free of any responsibility for the day, if you are amicable to enjoy an evening meal."

He gets a response back rather quickly, a thumbs up, and a simple and casual "yeah". He sends a map again, noting he changed where he wanted to eat, and it is rather close in the city. 

Zarkon takes a provided transport there and arrives in only around ten minutes. He has a bit of trouble entering the building, scowling at the short architecture. Thankfully the ceiling is much taller, but he still has to dodge a few low hanging lights. One is flickering in the corner, and there are a few cracks in the brick wall. He feels unimpressed, but the inside does smell undeniably good. He sees his new companion sitting in a corner booth, surrounded by windows. The sunset is golden, and the halo around him makes Zarkon stutter a bit. He closes his mouth forcibly and marches over, feeling bulky in his armor compared to the civilian clothes the man is wearing.

Keith's eyes widen when Zarkon sits down, but he quickly switches it back to cool indifference, probably deciding it isn't worth it. 

"Hey." He says, and Zarkon nods. 

"Greetings. I hope your day has been well." He responds. 

Keith nods, sipping on his bubbly drink. A servant, wait, what are they called here? A waiter comes over to check on them, probably seeing Zarkon sit down. He only orders water, and the woman looks at him quizzically. Keith repeats what he said to the woman who nods and scurries off to the kitchen. Zarkon is just glad Keith seems to have a translator implanted, this will make things easier than trying to communicate in his broken terran.

"Oh, I already ordered, by the way. I just got a sausage deep dish. My mom said it is similar to some galran food, thing."

Zarkon nods, not understanding, "I am appreciative of your consideration." He nods, and Keith nods back. Zarkon can feel himself blush a bit when Keith brushes a bit of dark hair tickling his nose. There is a silence, but he can tell it is probably normal for Keith to be quiet. It is normal for Zarkon as well, opting out of much conversation. They just sit and nurse their drinks until their food comes. It smells interesting, warm. Keith instantly perks up at the smell and sight, thanking the waitress when she sets it down. 

"Can you refill my drink?" Keith asks, and Keith gives her his nearly empty glass. 

She brings it back in about a minute filled, and then leaves promptly. Zarkon does not mind her leaving, wanting to spend some more time with Keith alone. He watches as the man digs into the meal, recutting the pizza and taking a slice. Zarkon follows suit, watching. He will admit it does remind him slightly of _prazitan_ , a homely dish. It is not often eaten in the high command, but when he eats by himself sometimes he will indulge. It is usually eaten on a child’s birthday. His mother used to make it for him.

He takes a bite, jerking when it feels so much hotter inside his mouth. He tries to politely blow on the food inside his mouth, panting to try and cool it off. He swallows it in a panic, blushing when he sees Keith looking at him discreetly behind his own slice. It looks big in his hands, and so small in Zarkon’s own.

"This is most pleasing." He responds, enjoying the strange spices the meat has. He grumbles when a string of- what is it called? Cheese? coming from his mouth. It is quite hot, and he tries again to covertly blow on the hot food already in his mouth. How is Keith eating it?

The man in question looks at him from his side, taking a sip of his drink. He gives an amused huff before returning to his own slice, blowing on it this time. Zarkon begrudgingly follows suit in his next bite, knowing Keith knows that he is copying. He is blushing now for sure, feeling out of place and off kilter. He will stay, though, just for Keith.

"The cheese is a little too gooey, still." Keith comments, trying his best to bite into the mound of white cheese and failing to break it off from it's bigger portion. It slips off and he eats it, chewing it into his mouth. Zarkon does not have this trouble, finishing his slices in about two bites. Keith has some sauce on his chin, which he wipes away with a napkin. He nearly forgets to use one, but the sentiment is appreciated. 

"Are we supposed to consume this dish scalding?" Zarkon asks, finishing his second piece. It has cooled considerably, but not quite enough to be comfortable. 

"I guess not but it is fun to eat it hot sometimes." He replies between bites, finishing his first piece. Zarkon smiles cordially, handing Keith his own napkin the waitstaff had afforded him. Keith hums in thanks, wiping his fingers on it a bit. He will admit the food is a bit greasy in a way Galran food is not like. They like it dry and easily digestible. New methods of creating sustainable food, however, has led most to abandon most traditional dishes that were less favorable to their taste buds.

The pizza upsets his stomach a bit, but he is hungry. He hadn't eaten on the transport or before he went in the wormhole; having no time to do so preparing for the trip.

"I am free again after meetings. Would you like to meet again for another meal?" Zarkon asks, eating another piece. The dish is nearly gone, going fast. It has cooled enough and Zarkon can really appreciate the taste. 

"Sure, have you been to the national park? My mom and I like to go sometimes." Keith offers. Zarkon tilts his head.

"No, I assume it is a favorable place of yours?" He asks. 

Keith shrugs, stirring his drink with his metal straw, "I guess so."

His glass is perspiring heavily with thick globs of sparkling water, and Keith’s spindly thumb wipes over it absentmindedly. 

Zarkon tilts his head, getting a better look at Keith besides him. 

"I will bring refreshments, then. I am sure if you enjoy this park I shall as well. You seem to have agreeable enough taste." He compliments. 

He hopes that wasn’t too cold sounding. Blaytz always goes out of his way to tell him how prickly and uptight he is. Zarkon simply cannot cease his entire personality and outlook that he has grown up with. It is who he is, and sadly he admits once again to himself that he usually scares away those he fancies.

Keith nods, tilting towards Zarkon's shoulder a bit, making them brush before retreating. 

"Thanks." Keith nods, flushing and looking away. Zarkon blushes too, squirming in his seat. That was flirting. Specifically Galran typical flirting. Flirting of the quite overt type, usually from those already in relationships, in private. Zarkon recalls the small man has a Galran mother. She had probably taught him such things, or told him that they do that with very little context. Or he sees his parents do it. But Zarkon has not the heart or confidence at the moment to tell the man it is inappropriate, opting to ignore it for now. Maybe it is simply a human show of friendly affection. But Zarkon is not a scared person, or someone to back down. His chances are that Keith knows what he just did. Keith is very handsome, and Zarkon feels his chest tighten and warm at the sight of him.

The large Galra takes a sip from his tiny glass of water, lips lingering on the cold glass. He places his hand over Keith's, which has been lingering on the table close by. Keith looks away harder, blushing hotter and entwining their hands. Zarkon decides it is good that Keith reciprocates. He knows what he is trying to convey to him, to flirt. Zarkon is glad they are both not inclined to use words as this might have not ended up as well if they have spoken.

Zarkon decides that perhaps this is not an application for finding friends, that his assumptions about Alfor's knowledge on the situation to be incorrect. But he should have suspected from the fact Blaytz had an intimate interest in it; and the less than appropriate pictures and language sent his way by both his friend and strangers.

But he is glad he has met this new _friend_ , a person he is keen on meeting again. Keith is much calmer company than that of his allies, and hopefully it works out better than Honerva... Alfor was always horrible at making matches, even if Zarkon did like her alot. She simply had different interests that did not involve him.

When Keith does an experimental squeeze of their entwined hands he looks over at Zarkon with an intense look, face a handsome shade of red. It reminds Zarkon of Diabazzal’s red color, the color of his home.

Zarkon decides that this one is worth it for him. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The small tentative flirting continues through the rest of dinner, and they part with a handshake that may or may not last a second or two too long. Their faces are still hot; Zarkon can feel it still dusting his cheeks in color. Keith stares at him too with a tentative look, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Did you like the pizza?” Keith asks with his rough voice. 

Zarkon watches him shuffle on his feet from below. He dwarfs Keith in size and weight, the lean man probably only weighing a portion of his chestplate alone. Zarkon figures he could wrap his hands around Keith’s slim waist; hold him in his palm so effortlessly and take away any stress or burden on his life. But Zarkon gets the feeling Keith would not like that so he is more than amicable to give the other a life of grandeur and adventure if he so chooses. 

“Yes, It was very good. Not what I am quite used to; but still more than agreeable.” He responds after a few seconds, “I would like to partake in it again. Maybe somewhere with a taller ceiling.” He adds, knowing he waited too long for such a short answer.

“What do you wish me to bring for our next meeting?” Zarkon asks, shoulders straight and face still flushed. Keith did not respond to him, still staring at him shyly.

“Uh, whatever. I’m not picky.” Keith replies with a shrug. 

He is quiet for a few seconds, staring back as Keith shuffles. He looks like he is thinking about something. Zarkon looks down on him with concealed affection blooming in his chest like moonlight, a soft wash of color. 

“What is it that you are deliberating on, Keith?” He asks. 

Zarkon wants to tuck his windswept hair behind his little flushing round ear.

Keith looks back up, hands straight at his sides to mirror Zarkon.

“It’s nothing. I’m… just curious about what Diabazzal looks like. Kr- my mother, she grew up there, but I’ve never been able to see it. She said it was beautiful.” He admits, cringing at his own words.

Keith is not as confident as Zarkon had originally thought, but it springs pride and joy in his chest that Keith would want to see Zarkon’s homeland. He wishes to bring Keith because his mother is correct: their home planet is beautiful, but harsh and often unforgiving. 

“That isn’t nothing; it is quite a reasonable line of thinking.” Zarkon assures, “I would be more than happy to fund a trip for you and your family. It would be of no consequence to me to do so.”

Keith’s eyes widen, blushing.

“What? No, that’s really expensive, and it would take too long, we have jobs and stuff.” Keith argues, crossing his arms with a slight pout. 

Zarkon quirks a brow, “As I said, it would be of no consequence to me. It would be quite easy to arrange a long range wormhole jump to cut your trip to a varga or two of travel.” 

“I’m not really sure.” Keith says while puffing his cheeks out, “I will think about it.” 

Zarkon nods, repositioning his feet. He didn’t realize he moved to lean closer to Keith. 

His transport from the Garrison will be back soon, and he will only see Keith next at their second _date_ as he thinks it is called here. Courtship rituals are often a headache, no matter the culture. He makes a mental note to research human courting and mating habits when he has time, realizing he does not know what to expect.

“I had quite a good time. I am looking forward to our next meeting.” Zarkon says as his communicator beeps, seeing his transport hover up towards them. Keith startles at the noise, and Zarkon places a reflexive hand on Keith’s shoulder to steady the smaller man. Keith places his hand over Zarkon’s, staring at the large hand as it retracts. His lips are slightly parted in an attractive way, eyes widened and face subtly yearning. Keith obviously liked that alot, the expressions he makes are quite Galran even if Keith doesn’t realize it. 

“Same, I forgot, will we be meeting again soon? The weather is nice this time of year, and I really enjoyed being with you today.” Keith asks.

Zarkon hums in agreement, “I am free several times before I leave, and I will make sure to make free time to see you if my schedule does not agree with yours.” He promises, “I meant when I said I enjoyed our time together.” 

Keith nods and hums back, “I really did too. Does two days from now work in the morning? I don’t have work then.”

Zarkon nods, “Whenever you wish, trust me when I say I will make time.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll see you later.” Keith smiles lopsided and bashful. 

Zarkon’s eyes widen and he can feel his blush rise to his cheeks again at full force. It feels like the heat of the sun on his cheekbones. It feels nice.

The driver is waiting for him, and he walks to the vehicle after a goodbye. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The diplomats are there to greet him, asking him questions and souring his good mood. These humans try too hard; he wants Keith’s company again, the other man felt so much less complicated than them. He could comfortably guess Keith’s body language, so Galran in nature, and his face was nice to look at. He was quiet, like Zarkon, and he was _cute_. These fellow military officials do not fit those qualities whatsoever. They are loud, pushy, rude and too touchy.

“Do not touch me.” Zarkon warns, and they pull back, “It is inappropriate to touch your superior officer.” He chastises after one accidentally places a hand on his. He feels burned and scandalized. He wanted the feeling of Keith to remain on his skin, but that is now replaced by repulsion.

“I will be returning to my rooms; I am correct in my thoughts that I had no obligations today. Something about ‘resting after a tiring trip’.” He quotes at them, and they respond in a chorus of nods.

“Our apologies, of course, continue on your way, Emperor.” Their leader says. 

Zarkon nods, walking away and finally alone.

He returns briskly to his room, feeling a bit better than usual. He is looking forward to their next meeting soon. His heart is pounding thinking about it, feeling his endearment towards Keith flow through his veins and tinge his ears a soft powder pink.

His communicator beeps, and he wants to ignore it, but the thought that it might be Keith makes him take it out and take a look.

“How are you?” Keith asks him through the screen. Zarkon sits on his bed, back straight and comms perpendicular to his face as he types. 

“The Garrison diplomats tend to linger and dawdle; I have much more important things to do than listen to them rambling about how happy they are to have us here for several vargas at a time, for quintents.” He responds, “It had sadly nearly ruined the good mood your company had placed me in.” He adds, then deletes. That is too flirty, and Zarkon had already been out of character today, too much for his impersonal tastes.

“I don’t know how anyone could deal with them, I can barely listen when they are on the news/when they tried to interrogate my mom.” He texts. 

Zarkon’s brow quirks, “Interrogate? I was not aware that the Earth's government was employing military tactics upon immigrants. This is unacceptable.” He responds, feeling anger simmer in his chest.

Keith doesn’t respond right away, the dots telling Zarkon he is typing go up and down periodically before getting a simple “wait, no”

“No? Had your mother not been accosted for her racial status?” He responds, confused.

“They tried to but she’s too bull headed they barely talk to us anymore” Keith responds.

“That is quite well. I will still have a conversation about it tomorrow; I enjoy making them squirm in their boots. They know nothing of Galran culture and I have no time to waste on them.” 

“But wait aren’t you a part of the emperor’s inner circle or smth?” Keith asks, “You kinda have to waste time on them sadly lol” 

Zarkon squints his eyes in confusion. 

“What do you think my position in the Galran Empire is, Keith?” He asks. He has a bad feeling, did Keith really not know?

“I dont know honestly… my mom doesn’t really talk abt it and your culture isnt really given out to the public quite yet. We dont even know your leader’s name yet. My government is being really apprehensive with you guys. Idk why cause the Alteans are welcomed here all the time.” Keith types.

Zarkon can feel his brows knit and his shoulders stiffen further.

“I am their Emperor, Keith. I apologize for assuming you knew about us. I understand if that fact makes you apprehensive to meet again.” He responds.

Keith doesn’t reply for awhile. It makes Zarkon’s stomach twist and curl uncomfortably. He keeps good posture, though, just watching and waiting.

“I think that is fine… I liked talking to you.” Keith responds. 

Zarkon lets out a breath.

“So are you still open to meet again?” He asks. 

Keith sends a thumbs up, and Zarkon sends one back.

He has a feeling that thumbs up are not offensive, at least not when they are coming from Keith.

Zarkon closes the messaging application, but spots his other contacts.

He opens an urgent call to Alfor.

“I need a possible favor.” He asks.

Alfor quirks a brow, smirking, “Hello to you too, my friend.”

Zarkon grunts out a hello, but otherwise ignores it.

“I have met someone, and I wish to treat them to their ancestral home… they are not sure they wish to go yet but I wish to secure them a way in case.” Zarkon explains.

Alfor nods, looking perplexed and puzzled but still nodding, “It won’t be an issue; what planet is it? Are they a part of the coalition?” He asks, taking a sip of tea. 

Zarkon is glad he caught Alfor during his usual tea time. 

“They are half Galra…” Zarkon admits, “But he has little knowledge of his ancestral home, I wish to show him more. He couldn’t even recognize me, I had to tell him who I was.” Zarkon grits out.

“Not everyone knows who you are; and the boy would probably enjoy a nice trip, I can easily arrange something for him.” Alfor agrees, “I figure I owe you after having found Blaytz took inappropriate images of you, without your permission to add onto the offense.” Alfor apologizes. 

“It is fine, I just wish to ask this one thing, as friends.” Zarkon replies. 

Alfor nods, smiling. 

“We care for you, Zarkon. I am glad you found someone to connect with so quickly.” he takes a sip of tea, setting it down with a soft clink. “Please remember we will help you if you need it; I know Earth is being difficult with your people, even if they tend to be so similar at times.”

Zarkon hums.

“Thank you, Alfor. You have been a great friend for me.” He replies. 

He really means it, smiling slightly. Not quite like with Keith or Honerva, but it is small and sincere, and Alfor notices easily and smiles back at him. 

They say their goodbyes and hang up, Zarkon taking his armor off and settling in bed. It gets so dark here, and then so bright. His home is moderate in it’s light, it’s kindness and it’s difficulties. He cannot wait to show Keith his home, _their_ home. To feed him the finest foods, and show him the beauties of their planet. It is different here, so much of Earth’s surface is marred from civilization. They leave almost nothing completely untouched. It is different in Diabazzal, where they live mostly in colonies and big cities built on rich deposits in rock. Most of the planet is left untouched as it is considered sacred battle grounds.

He cannot stop thinking about what he has to show Keith. He wants to see his eyes widen in excitement and wonder. To hold his hand again as they walk down the rocks to the historic sites below. 

Keith was handsome, and kind. He thinks him to be hardworking as well; something that Zarkon can understand and appreciate. 

He wishes for a day when he can brush the loose hair from Keith’s forehead, kissing the pale skin and his strange cheekmarking. Keith might return the sentiment, maybe he would leave one on Zarkon’s cheekbone, or directly connect their lips. He wants to show Keith every wonder in the universe.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
